


Remember Me

by Attenia



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 22:13:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18558925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attenia/pseuds/Attenia
Summary: An injury causes Legolas to lose his memory. While the physical damage may heal, the prince's recollections may never return. Aragorn is unsure if he'll ever truly have his best friend back.





	Remember Me

Aragorn finished off the last orc with a quick thrust of his sword and spun around, searching for any more danger. There was none, and he scanned the area for Legolas. He found his friend sprawled on the ground in a pool of blood.  
“No, mellon nin!” Aragorn ran to his side, quickly examining the prince. He had a nasty bump on his head, and his leg was bleeding, but it could be a lot worse. After snatching his bag of healing supplies from his horse, Aragorn set to stitching the leg wound. It had bled a lot, but it would heal fine.  
The bump on his head was more serious. He managed to determine that Legolas’ skull wasn’t fractured, but the blow had been a hard one. The next hour was spent coaxing a healing potion down the elf’s throat, something to reduce the swelling. It was slow going; he had to pour in a few drops before waiting for Legolas to swallow naturally, then repeat the process.  
With that finally done, Aragorn picked up his friend and got them both onto the same horse. They were only a few days away from Imladris, but he was fairly confident he could deal with Legolas’ injuries himself. After he set up camp, Aragorn washed the blood off himself and his friend, changed them both into fresh clothes, and started making a stew to leave on the fire while he rested. Hopefully, by the time it was done, Legolas would be awake.  
Aragorn lay down next to his friend, with a hand on the prince’s chest, so that he’d know if Legolas stirred or needed anything.  
He was woken by a subtle movement that he would have missed had he not fallen asleep touching the elf.  
“Don’t move, Legolas,” he grumbled. “You’re injured, even you should realize that.”  
He was expecting to hear a complaint, but Legolas was silent. That caught his attention, and Aragorn cracked his eyes open, rapidly sitting up when he saw his friend’s face.  
“What is it? More orcs? Which direction?”  
Legolas didn’t respond, but kept staring at him, quite obviously afraid.  
“Mellon nin? Speak to me. Should we flee? The horses are rested…”  
“Who – who are you?”  
Had it not been for the obvious fear on the elf’s face, Aragorn would have felt sure he was joking. “It is me, gwador. It is Estel. Do you not remember what happened?”  
“I…” Legolas slowly shook his head. “Who am I?”  
A wave of cold fear went through him. The head wound must have been worse than he’d thought. Aragorn automatically reached forward to examine it, but Legolas scuttled back, hissing in pain as he did so.  
Aragorn stayed where he was, holding out a placating hand to his friend. “Your name is Legolas, son of Thranduil. You are the prince of Greenwood. I am your best friend – or brother may be a better way to describe it – Este, son of Elrond. We were out on a hunting trip when we were attacked by orcs. You hit your head, which is causing your memory loss, I’m sure. I should get you to Ada. He can heal you.”  
He’d expected that Legolas would be comforted by his words, but the prince’s eyes were narrowed in suspicion. “How do I know you’re not the one who injured me?”  
Aragorn resisted the urge to roll his eyes, reminding himself that Legolas had no memory of him and didn’t understand just how ridiculous that statement was. “If you breathe deeply, you should just be able to smell the decomposing orc corpses a little way off. It is them who injured you.  
“You’ll also notice that I’ve stitched your leg wound up. I would never hurt you. Now please, come and lie down, and let me take a look at your head.”  
Legolas did so reluctantly, remaining tense throughout the whole examination. Aragorn hated to see him like this, and wished he could put his friend at ease. He silently handed Legolas one of his long knives, which the elf took with a look of relief, holding it clenched in his fist should Aragorn prove hostile.  
“Your wounds are no worse. They will heal well, but we should still see Ada about your memory. It’s a few hours before dawn. You should go back to sleep.”  
“Alright,” Legolas said softly. He lay down, tensing slightly when Aragorn rested a hand on his chest, but relaxed after a few minutes. Soon enough, he drifted off.  
Aragorn was woken once more my movement. This time, he could tell that Legolas was still asleep. Asleep and having a nightmare. Still half asleep himself, Aragorn made to crawl into the elf’s bedroll. They did this often, when one of them was stricken with nightmares.  
Of course, he’d forgotten Legolas didn’t know who he was.  
The prince woke with a gasp, snatching his bedroll away from the man. “W-what are you doing?”  
“Right, sorry!” Aragorn resisted the urge to smack himself in the forehead. He’d clearly alarmed the skittish elf. “You were having a nightmare. I merely meant to comfort you. May I?”  
“I – are we lovers?” Legolas blurted out.  
Aragorn couldn’t help laughing at this. “No, you’re like my brother. That would be weird.”  
“But sharing a bedroll between friends is not?”  
“You thought it was strange at first, too. When I was younger, I’d have nightmares often, and it would be Ada or one of the twins – Elladan or Elrohir, my other two brothers – who slept with me. When we became friends, I started doing the same for you. You were suspicious at first, but when you realized it stopped the nightmares coming, you gave in pretty quickly.”  
Legolas nodded thoughtfully. “I dreamed I was trapped in a cave. It was dark and I couldn’t breathe.”  
“You don’t like caves, and unfortunately, we’ve been trapped in them enough times to give us both nightmares.” Aragorn hesitated, unwilling to allow Legolas to go back to sleep only to be ensnared by a nightmare again. “May I?” he asked once more.  
“Ok.” Legolas sounded unsure, but Aragorn smiled reassuringly as he crawled into the bedroll, pulling the prince’s head to his shoulder in a familiar gesture. Well, familiar to him, at least.  
Legolas lay tense for several minutes before relaxing. Aragorn waited for the elf to slip into reverie before allowing sleep to take him.  
He was woken by the morning sun, surprised to find Legolas still deeply asleep. The elf’s wounds must have drained him more than Aragorn had realized. He managed to get out of the bedroll without disturbing his friend, and took the stew off the remains of the fire, glad to find it was done.  
By the time the prince woke, Aragorn had a tea ready for him. “Good morning!” He tried to put on a bright smile. In truth, he was deeply disturbed by the situation, but there was no point in worrying Legolas even more, not when the elf’s trust of him was clearly still shaky.  
In truth, it was Aragorn’s heartache of having his best friend so close, but so far, that was bothering him more than worries about Legolas’ medical condition. Ada would be able to heal the prince, he was sure of that much.  
“Good morning.” Legolas was quiet and reserved, as he’d been when Aragorn had first known him. It was disheartening to see, but there was nothing to be done about it for now.  
“Here, drink this.”  
Legolas squinted suspiciously at the tea. “What is it?”  
That got a chuckle out of him. “Some things never change. You always were suspicious of any medicine offered to you. It’s for the bump on your head, to help with the pain.”  
The suspicion didn’t fade as Legolas frowned at him. “How do you know I’m in pain?”  
“Mellon nin, I can see it on your face.”  
“I didn’t know I was that easy to read,” the prince muttered, looking troubled.  
“You’re not. It took me many years to learn to see it. To be fair, I had good motivation.” Legolas had a bad habit of hiding injuries, and Aragorn had had to learn to spot them if he wanted to keep his in good health.  
Legolas reluctantly drank the tea. Aragorn watched carefully as the lines of pain on the elf’s face began to ease, and sighed in relief. He hated seeing Legolas in pain.  
“If we ride hard, we can reach Imladris by tomorrow night, but let me know if your injuries are hurting you and you need to go slower.”  
“Alright.”  
Aragorn knew that there was no chance of that, and resolved to watch the prince even more closely than usual. He snatched up their two empty water skins to refill, but Legolas held out his hand for them. “I can fill them – I can see you’re busy packing up the rest of our camp. I can hear the stream, it’s not far.”  
Aragorn hesitated, unsure whether he should allow Legolas to go off alone.  
“I’m not an invalid, Estel,” Legolas snapped, snatching the skins. Aragorn grinned at his retreating back. It seemed the prince at least retained some of his old personality, if not his memories.  
He’d just finished saddling the horses when Legolas returned. The elf kept his back to Aragorn and rummaged in his pack, pulling his cloak and wrapping it around himself.  
“Oh no you don’t,” warned Aragorn, who knew the signs. “Let’s see it, mellon nin.”  
Legolas shot an incredulous glance over his shoulder. “What are you talking about?”  
“Your injury. Now are you going to make me chase you before I examine you, or will you come quietly?”  
“Why am I even friends with you?” Legolas muttered sourly. “You’re the most annoying human I’ve ever met.”  
“You sure your memories aren’t coming back?” Aragorn chuckled. “Because you’ve said that to me enough times…”  
As he spoke, he crept closer and when he was near enough, whipped the cloak off Legolas. “Mellon nin, what happened!” The prince’s abdomen was covered in blood.  
“I didn’t know there was a drop after the outcropping. I fell on a branch.” Legolas stared at his feet.  
“You should have called me before removing it! No, it’s my fault, I should never have let you go alone. You’re probably still unsteady from the bump on your head, plus I forgot you don’t know the lay of the land anymore. I’m sorry, gwador… Come, now, lie back. Let me look at your wound.”  
The wound was serious, and it took Aragorn the better part of the morning to sew up the damage. Fortunately, Legolas was unconscious for most of it. Aragorn breathed a sigh of relief once he’d finished stitching up all of the internal damage, and simply had to close the skin.  
He would have liked to linger, to let Legolas heal some more, but he needed his Ada to examine the prince as soon as possible. If there was something time-sensitive that had to be done for the memory loss, he’d never forgive himself if the elf permanently lost a part of his recollections because Aragorn had hesitated.  
Fortunately, Legolas remained unconscious for much of the journey, reviving for only brief periods. Unfortunately, he started to develop a fever. A quick check told Aragorn that the wound was infected – not entirely unexpected, giving its depth. At least they weren’t far from home. Legolas would do better under Elrond’s roof than out here in the wild.  
In the brief times the prince woke, he was in a lot of pain, and too delirious to try to hide it, which worried Aragorn to no end.  
“Estel…”  
“I’m here, mellon nin.” His arm was wrapped securely around Legolas’ chest to keep him on the horse.  
“Hurts,” Legolas groaned.  
“I know, gwador. We’ll be at Imladris soon, don’t worry.”  
Legolas mumbled something incoherent, trying to shift around into a more comfortable position. Aragorn knew they shouldn’t stop – he wanted to get Legolas to Ada as soon as possible – but he couldn’t stand watching his friend suffer. He pulled the horse to a halt and gently lifted Legolas off. Even this small movement was enough to make the elf’s back arch in pain as Aragorn laid him down on a cloak.  
He quickly brewed a strong tea for the pain that should put Legolas out for several hours, then hurried over and pulled his friend’s shoulders onto his lap, helping to hold up his head.  
“Here, drink this, mellon nin, it will help.”  
Legolas coughed a few times, but eventually got the tea down. After several minutes, his face finally relaxed as his agony faded and he was drawn into a deep sleep. Aragorn quickly got him back on the horse and set off at a fast gallop, knowing that there wouldn’t be need to slow his pace to spare Legolas pain for several hours.  
He’d barely clattered into Imladris when he was met by the twins, who were giving him twin frowns of disapproval.  
“Not again, Estel!” Elladan tugged Aragorn off the horse he and Legolas were sharing, and the man didn’t resist.  
“Ada is going to kill you.” Elrohir did the same with Legolas, sighing as he started carrying the semi-conscious elf to the healing halls.  
Elladan tried to do the same with him, but Aragorn danced out of his reach. “I’m fine, Elladan, I’m not hurt, I can walk.”  
His brother snorted. “Right. I’ve heard that one before. You’ll get into bed and not give me any trouble about it until Ada has examined you.”  
They reached the healing halls, and Elladan pulled a bed up close to Legolas, knowing that it was the only way Aragorn would consent to lie down.  
“Listen, I need to tell you about Legolas. He’s –”  
“Hurt, yes we can see that,” Elrohir said somewhat waspishly as he examined Legolas’ wounds. “Really, Estel, is it too much to ask that the two of you return from one trip unscathed?”  
Legolas chose that moment to wake up, groaning and blinking at the elf above him. “Estel?” he moaned.  
“I am here, mellon nin. We are being taken care of.”  
“Are these… are these your brothers?”  
“They are. Elladan and Elrohir.”  
“Your brothers are elves?”  
“Yes, they’re –”  
“What’s wrong with him?” Elrohir demanded, pressing a hand to Legolas’ forehead. “Ah, he has a fever. Of course he does.”  
“Still, Legolas, confusing us with a smelly human is unforgivable, fever or not,” Elladan chided, smirking.  
“Is your father also an elf?”  
“He is. Lord Elrond –”  
Elladan cut him off again. “You’ll be less confused after you sleep, Legolas, don’t worry.”  
“You’re not listening to me!” Aragorn tried to fight Elladan off as his brother did his best to examine the man.  
“Too right we’re not. We’ve listened to you too many times, little brother. You’re almost as bad as Legolas with hiding your injuries. We’ll see them for ourselves.”  
At that moment, Elrond came in.  
“Ada,” Aragorn sighed in relief. His father would listen to him.  
“Legolas has a bad stomach wound, as well as a bump on his head and a gash on his leg,” Elrohir quickly summarized. “Estel seems unharmed, though he is agitated.”  
“Ada, listen to me! I need to tell you about Legolas.”  
“Yes, Estel, I am listening.” Though Elrond was intent on his examination of the prince, he kept his head turned slightly toward Aragorn, showing that he was indeed listening.  
“Legolas bumped his head, hard. He doesn’t remember.”  
“Understandable,” the elf lord murmured. “How much does he not remember?”  
“Everything! He doesn’t remember anything, Ada – who he is, who I am, who his father is…”  
That got all three Noldor’s attention. Elrond’s hands paused on Legolas before continuing their work. “Alright, ion nin. Do not worry. Legolas, I am Lord Elrond, and I will help you. I’ll have some questions for you, but for now, we need to treat that infection and get your fever down.”  
“Thank you, hir nin,” Legolas breathed, shortly before passing out.  
The next two days passed in a blur. Legolas’ physical wounds were serious, but they would heal. As for his memories… the more Ada talked to and examined the prince, the graver he became. Eventually, he sat down with the two of them to explain his findings.  
“The knock to your head damaged something inside you, Legolas. The physical damage will heal, but I do not know if the memories will ever return. We will simply have to wait and see.”  
Aragorn felt like the floor was falling from beneath him. “But – Ada, there must be something you can do? A potion or cure, something!”  
“All potions I can think to give him, I have already had Legolas drink. Now, it is up to his own body and mind. The memories will come if they will.”  
Legolas looked troubled, but not nearly as much as Aragorn was. All of the precious memories he shared with the prince, possibly lost forever? It couldn’t be. He wanted his friend back; he needed his friend back.  
Aragorn turned to stare at the elf, silently begging him. Remember me. Please, remember me. Legolas stared back, no spark of recognition in his eyes.  
“What can I do?” Aragorn begged his Ada.  
“Talk to him. Spend time with him. Being in a familiar setting like this should help. Just be his friend, Estel. He may have to start over; he’ll need a friend if that’s the case.”  
As Elrond left, Aragorn forcefully pushed away his own anguish and turned to comfort the prince. Perhaps Legolas thought he was hiding it well, but Aragorn could easily see his distress. “It will be ok, mellon nin. I will help you. We all will.”  
“What if I don’t ever remember? I don’t know who I am, Estel!”  
He swallowed his fear. “If you don’t remember, then you will rediscover who you are, or who you want to be. I will be with you in it. If things don’t get better, we can write to your father. He’ll come here, or we can take you home to him. We’ll all help you pick up the pieces, gwador, memories or not.”  
Legolas seemed consoled by these words, but Aragorn was barely concealing his own pain. Remember me, he begged with his eyes. But Legolas didn’t remember him, didn’t know him well enough to read the unspoken plea on his friend’s face.  
Days passed and turned into a week, then into two. Aragorn spent every minute with Legolas, hoping that by talking to him he’d trigger a memory. He could tell that Legolas wanted to remember and was frustrated with himself for his failure, but Aragorn’s reassurances that it was not his fault did little good.  
It was a small, stupid thing that set him off. Aragorn was already at his wit’s end, and he supposed it was bound to happen sooner or later.  
He and Legolas were having a lively debate about various hunting techniques. Aragorn favored using a spear, while of course, Legolas used his bow.  
“We can’t all be trained by the elves of Greenwood,” he teased. “Sometimes us lesser mortals must make do with what we’re good at.”  
He paused, waiting for the inevitable jab about the Noldor elves’ ‘inferior’ archery skills, but it didn’t come. Legolas kept talking, going into the finer points of longbows versus spears, but Aragorn didn’t hear him.  
“Ex-excuse me,” he muttered, fleeing the room. He barely made it to his bedroom when he broke. With a wild yell, Aragorn kicked a chair, sending it flying. He slammed his fist into the bedpost, which shattered. It wasn’t enough, and he grabbed the table, sending it flying through the window. He was just turning for another chair when a set of strong arms grabbed him.  
“Hush, Estel,” Elrond murmured.  
Aragorn fought to get free, but the elf lord was much stronger than he was. He yelled and kicked, but soon his anguish-fueled energy faltered and he went limp in his Ada’s arms. He turned his face into Elrond’s chest as his father embraced him tightly. Aragorn pressed his head against the elf lord’s chest, taking deep, shuddering breaths.  
“I – I need him back, Ada.”  
“I know, Estel, I know.”  
They stood there for several minutes while Aragorn collected himself. Legolas needed him to be strong, not to break down. “I should get back to him. I just ran out – he probably thinks he did something wrong.”  
“Do not worry, the twins are with him. Come, you haven’t been outside in too long.”  
He allowed his father to lead him toward the gardens. Together, they sat on a bench nestled between several trees. Elrond put an arm around him, and Aragorn leaned into his Ada, resting his head on the elf lord’s shoulder.  
“I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t get better, Ada. It’s like I’ve lost him. I know he’s still alive, but it doesn’t feel like he is. I’ve lost my best friend and I don’t know how to –” He broke off, clenching his fist so tightly that his fingers cut into the skin of his palm.  
“You will find him again, ion nin, I truly believe that. Whether he remembers or not, you and Legolas started your friendship once from nothing. You can do so again. I’m not saying it will be easy, but your hearts’ connection is not so easily severed. You will never truly lose him.”  
They sat there for a long time, Aragorn soaking up his Ada’s comfort. Finally, feeling considerably calmer, he got up. “I want to get back.”  
“I will walk with you.”  
They found Legolas being entertained by the twins. Though still hesitant, the prince was fast warming to all of them, even without his memories.  
When his eyes met Aragorn’s, Legolas brightened. “Estel! Your brothers take advantage of me, I can never hope to refute any of their crazy stories when I do not remember my part in them. Come, you must assist me.”  
Aragorn smiled, dropping into a chair next to the bed. Maybe Ada was right. Maybe he and Legolas would be ok, memories or not.  
Another week passed. Elrond finally allowed Legolas out of the healing halls after the prince snuck out for the fifth time. He returned to his rooms, on the condition that he wouldn’t try to go too far alone. Though Legolas’ disregard for his own health and his hatred of being confined were exasperating, in one way, it was comforting.  
It was just another reminder that while he was changed by the loss of his memories, in many ways he was still the same. He was becoming less reserved by the day, much more like his old self, at least the self Aragorn had known.  
Aragorn’s nightmares came back with a vengeance, of course, now that he was no longer sleeping in the healing halls with Legolas. He’d insisted on staying as long as the elf did, but now they were both in their separate chambers. Their recent experience wouldn’t let him get any rest.  
Dreams of his friend being hurt, of never knowing who he was, haunted him. Elrond and the twins spent many a night with him. He didn’t ask them to, but they knew, and they came anyway, disregarding his protests that he was no child anymore.  
Because of this, he wasn’t surprised when, three weeks since he and Legolas had returned to Imladris, he awoke to find someone else in his bed. He had vague memories of waking up with a yell after a nightmare, and someone slipping into bed with him, murmuring that he should go back to sleep.  
Aragorn jerked in surprise when he realized he had a face full of blonde hair. “Legolas?” The prince hadn’t slept with him since that night out in the wilds, and had evaded Aragorn’s questions about his own nightmares, which made the man sure he was having them.  
He didn’t want to press his company on his friend, though, and let Legolas sleep alone. Ordinarily, he would have instead in helping without hesitation, but he still wasn’t entirely sure of how things stood between him and Legolas at present.  
“Go back to sleep, smelly human,” the prince groaned. “This is the first solid night’s sleep I’ve had in a week, let me enjoy it.”  
Aragorn smiled sadly at the insult that had come first from Legolas, but the twins had picked up. Now Legolas repeated it back at him after hearing it from Elladan, not knowing that he was the one who had originally started it.  
“Stubborn elf. You should have come earlier if you were having trouble sleeping.”  
“Only came because I heard you yelling…”  
Of course, he did. Legolas had to be worse at asking for help than Aragorn was, which was saying a lot. He poked his friend in the side. “Come on, gwador, it’s already midmorning. If we don’t hurry, the table will be empty and we’ll have to catch our own breakfast.”  
Legolas sighed dramatically and sat up. “Well, we can’t have that. I’ll starve to death before Noldor archery nets us a meal.”  
Aragorn froze. “Did… did the twins tell you that?”  
“That the Noldor can’t shoot to save their lives? No, in fact they have denied it many times. Fortunately, I have two eyes that serve me better than three lying sons of Elrond.”  
Aragorn grabbed his friend’s shoulders. “Legolas? You… you remember?”  
Shock passed across the elf’s face as he realized what he was saying. “I – I remember?” He didn’t sound very sure about it.  
“You always teased us that we couldn’t shoot. Someone didn’t tell you?”  
“No, I remember teasing you. It seems I’ve always remembered it.”  
“Do you remember anything else?” Aragorn demanded.  
Legolas hung his head. “No. I’m sorry, Estel.”  
“Don’t be sorry!” Aragorn leapt up, whooping in joy. “This is a first step, mellon nin! You definitely didn’t remember that before – your memory is coming back!”  
An examination from Elrond and thorough questioning showed that Legolas’ memory was indeed starting to come back. It was still patchy, but the more he talked with Aragorn and the twins, the more he remembered.  
Aragorn couldn’t tell whether he or Legolas was more joyful about this. As days passed, gaping holes in the prince’s memories became small tears, and then even those began to fade. Legolas truly came back to himself.  
And Aragorn had his best friend back. Three months since that fateful fight found them swimming in a nearby lake, guarded by Glorfindel and seven of his warriors. Ada had insisted, and though he’d rolled his eyes, Aragorn hadn’t put up too much of a fuss.  
The last few months had been harrowing, and he had no desire to repeat them. One thing was for sure, no orcs would be getting past Glorfindel and his people. They could swim in peace.  
He and Legolas spent hours swimming, finally lounging in the shallows together, staring up into the cloudless sky.  
Aragorn turned on his side to face his friend. There was something he had to say. “Thank you.”  
“What for, gwador?”  
“For remembering me. The whole time, I was begging you to remember me, and you didn’t know, you couldn’t read it on my face. Something inside you answered, though. Thank you.”  
Legolas’ face softened into a smile. “Oh mellon nin, how could I ever forget you?”


End file.
